


Stability

by tulip



Category: Hannibal (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Bottom John, Cannibalism, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gore, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Top Hannibal, Top Sherlock, mental manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tulip/pseuds/tulip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock's Fall John returns to his therapist. His condition is beyond her abilities and refers him to a colleague that has recently moved into the country after his stay in the U.S. Dr. Hannibal Lector welcomes Dear John into his office and into his home. Developments arise in John's psychosis and with a new thread of murders scattering London, Inspector Lestrade reaches for the help of an unstable John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time

     Heart and lungs beat harshly in unison, thrashing along John’s sternum. Wanting to get out beating to be free. Remembering how to breathe again Johns esophagus opens up with a gulp. A violent gasp for air erupts from his mouth as his eyes fly open and consciousness regains him.

His hands come up and pull at his face, smoothing out the tot skin and pulsing breaths. His eyes dart fast to his surroundings gathering as much information from his environment to situate and locate himself. Earth tone and soft Fleur-de-lis pattern coating the walls. Familiarity. A soft click behind John has him spinning as a door slowly swings open and a man appears.

     “Ah, Dear Dr. Watson. I wasn’t expecting you so suddenly, your appointment isn’t for another half hour.”

John lungs squeeze and a contraction of his body chokes the air out as he tries to breath again. His hand comes up cupping his mouth to regulate his breathing and his eyes vibrate over his psychiatrist. John’s body language doesn’t go unnoticed.

     “Please come in, an early start will not be unwelcomed”

     “Thank you Dr. Lecter” John said whilst walking through Hannibal’s open and inviting office.

The door is promptly shut behind him; posture straight and shoulders square in a dark grey three piece suit, Dr. Lecter eyed John. Observing him sitting frigidly on the posh couch, hands still at his face.

     “ I was at surgery today, ” John said opening the conversation.

     “ Yes, as I see your schedule seldom change this is a common occurrence with your Tuesdays John.”

John let go a shaky breath pulling away his hands from his mouth, not yet making eye contact.

     “I – I had an appointment at 2:30. But it was only 2:15 or so, took a rest for a bit in my office. I just closed my eyes. Just for a bit.” He says winded, pauses and swallows thickly “When I opened them, I was here.”

     “It’s a quarter passed six Dear John.”

     “I know!” It came out almost a shout. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I just can’t – I didn’t -”

     “It’s quite alright, this is the first experience you are encountering with loss of time and a bit of a shout is the least of your worries. You’re handling this quite well, I have seen far worse reactions.”

     “I’m going mad.”

     “ John, you were referred to me through your former therapist after your traumatic loss. These pass months despite some recent developments you are progressing most gracefully. Trust when I say you are far from, as you say - mad.”

John held his tongue, deciding not to argue with Dr. Lector. In response he nods his head and with a slow right hand rubs the back of his neck sadly pulling and prodding at the tense and stressed muscles. His beige cardigan wrinkling and stretching.  

     “ Now, let us explore this day and possibly discover triggers to this happenstance.” Hannibal offered as his sat across from John, legs crossed and hands resting on a knee. His face sharp and calm, his eyes soft and focused.

     “ No - nothing out of the ordinary, tea in the morning and surgery at nine. I –“ He took a staggering breath “I had three appointments in the morning, had a lunch and a phone call with Lestrade. One appointment at 1:30 then, then all this happened.” John said opening his arms in a distressed gesture.

     “This conversation with Lestrade, the Inspector I presume.”

     “Yes Detective Inspector, I have mentioned him before. He is a friend.”

     “And this conversation?”

     “ Well, to check in I s’pose. He did rather ask for something I don't think. Ok I know I can’t do.”

Hannibal gave him a look to continue.

     “ There has been a few murders The Allhoallows Impaler I’m sure you have heard, and Lestrade is at his wits end. He asked for some assistance, why from me I haven’t a clue. I’m at the brink of barking and I can’t deduce like _He_ could, I can’t do the things _He_ could.”

     “ Yes I have read about this Allhallows Impaler, and I share your reservations. Although your skill may not parallel that of Sherlock your company would only benefit Scotland Yard and Lestrade. Fresh eyes and experience with this field you are a reliable choice for the Inspector.”

     “ Are you suggesting I accept?”

     “  Your reaction to this request behooves a new approach in your therapy, I suggest accepting this opportunity. Lestrade is a friend that has had familiar experience with you and your lost loved one and has potential to anchor you during a visit to the scene.”

John stands up with a rush and clenched fists. Strolling to the fair side window, he gazed out to the London haze. Clenching and unclenching his palms to his sides and blips of breaths pulse out through pursed lips.

     “You would have me give a go at a crime scene when I just mentally clocked out?” He said without even facing his Dr.

     “A new approach, as I said your progress has been graceful but stagnant. If you feel comfortable I would suggest including your Inspector into some details with your behavior. If circumstances should arise he may have an eye out for you.”

     “And do what? Exactly?”

     “Have him give me a call at noon”

John turned at the offer, gave a look over to Hannibal reclining in his seat. John’s fingers sprawl away from fists. Relaxing.

     “Facing my fears, as you would have it then?”

Hannibal splayed a slow burn of a smile.

     “As it were yes, although you won’t be left to your own mental devices Dear John.”

John took his first easy breath since he entered Dr. Lecter’s office this afternoon.

…

John said a soft hello passing Mrs. Hudson as he crept up the stairs to his home and shut himself in. Laying out his jacket across the back of his couch he faced his kitchen and walked in. The once lab tattered kitchen was now lying with delicate dried and fresh herbs, flowers and spices. Chamomiles blossoming brightly, a center piece for the small kitchen table. Dried flower heads from Jasmine, Rose and Peppermints neatly stored in open cabinets. Cinnamon, Hibiscus, Orange Blossom and Vanilla displayed gracefully, meticulously.

John, after The Fall, and out of necessity acquired a hobby. Something to ease and calm his mind as well as occupy his time. This he found in tea, sprouting an also small interest in Botany.

The kettle is boiling; a bulbuls white porcelain teacup is sitting patiently to be pooled with steaming water. Chamomile flower heads and a carefully measured spoon of poppy milk melted together in a unique tea. John taking saucer and cup in hand walks over to the common room settling into his seat across an old and much unused grey couch. He was sinking, sip after sip, John sunk further and further. And before all his stress melts and secretes from his body, he takes out his mobile. Sending a conformation text to the Detective Inspector.


	2. Suspended Dust

 

            Greg Lestrade marched right out of his press conference with Donovan in toe. The latest murder that sprouted upon Scotland Yard’s Inspector had the media running a muck and Lestrade pulling at the teeth. Planting himself at his desk and kneading his temples with stiff fingers he shook his head.

            “Bloody hell, this isn’t right” He said muffly.

            “Well, what you think was going to happen?” Donovan chided.

            “I haven’t the faintest. What time is it?”

            “ Five passed, why?”

            “I need to make a phone call.”

            “What for? Wait, is this to do with Watson? Trading on freak for another are we?”

            “Shut it Donovan, we need the help. And if he has picked up anything from -“

            “ Ridiculous! Sherlock was a freak and a fake and you –“

            “Enough! Now out I need to make a phone call”

            Sally Donovan pushed off the desk she was leaning on and with a scowl upon her face she turning on her heel and left Lestrade’s office in annoyance.

            The Inspector merely gave another rub of his temple and forehead before dipping into his trouser pockets fishing for his mobile. He held the thing with a full grip staring at the glass screen before tapping it on and dialing for the number John had send him earlier through text. With on elbow perched on his desk Lestrade leaned into one hand and with his cold phone softly at his other ear.

            Three rings.

            “Hello, this is Hannibal Lector”

             Lestrade cleared his throat before speaking.

            “Yes, hello. This is um, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. I am calling on the behalf of John Watson.”

            “Indeed you are Detective Inspector.”

            “I s’pose I need a bit of debriefing on the account that I have asked John for some, well - help.”

            “Precisely the purpose of this call. Now without thinning doctor patient confidentiality I ask that you keep an eye out for dear John.  He has recently developed some sensitive habits. Similar to sleepwalking but more or less conscious, if his actions seem disconnected please assist. Gently pry him back to consciousness or assure his safety home. I believe this is a opportunity for John to progress but we must take caution.” Hannibal’s voice was quick and concise.

            “Well alright that’s not a problem at all. Anything else I should look for Dr?”

            “If John chooses to disclose with you”

            “Course, and if he gets abit um- ”

            “In the case of an emergency don’t hesitate to contact me”

            “Well that's quite kind of you Dr Lecter, lets hope it doesn’t come to that, yeah?”

            “Of course. Good day Detective”

            “ -  Good day” 

…

 

            Lestrade is standing on the front steps of the Yard, arms crossed over his chest as he looked out to the busy streets. A black cab hugged the curb as it stopped parallel to the main entrance to the police station.  The back passenger door opened up and out stepped John. He turned to the cabbie up front after paying his due fee turning to Lestrade, he slowly paced over.

             John approaching closely to the Inspector he greeting him with a soft hello and a nod, Lestrade in turn gave the same greeting. Together they walked into Scotland Yard, a dreadful weight accompanying both their shoulders. John is thinning his lips and swallowing dry saliva while following after his friend. His eyes stay narrow and don’t stray to his surrounding until they come to a stop in a main office.

            A dock of tables lined the center of the room, scattering chairs hugging the edges. The walls are absolutely glittered this pictures and notes. Tacked on the walls is a full time line of murders flowing to one to another. None more horrific then the other, its just a monotone liner metamorphosis of death.

            John’s eyebrows knit grievously together and he pries his eyes away from the wall and dodges to other more familiar faces. Donovan and Anderson are of the most familiar but not the most pleasant to be re-visiting.  Along side are a few more nameless officers that John somewhat recognize but not given a thought.

            “Well, right. Been a while there John” says Donovan. And Anderson greets him with a nod.

            “Yes, yes it has. Shall we?”

            At that moment Lestrade strides forward to the tables adjacent to the wall of mural murders. Pulls a few files under a pile of folders and addresses his small audience.

            “Alright then, we are going to have a bit of a recap. John here is a friend of mine and I have asked him for a bit of input.” He said and walked over to the beginning of the murder timeline. “We’ll start this with the first victim.”

            And that is how John was presented the beginning and latest of the Allhallows Impaler. Four murders, three males and one female, nothing discovered to link them to one another. No distinct or repeating motive, the only evidence that makes positive to one murderer is the composition of death. All victims are artfully impaled. Displayed on various tools framing the victims, lifted on objects used as pikes or stakes. Every one of the bodies mutilated.

            “Humiliated” Whispered John

            “What was that John?” Lestrade looked up from his notes and pulled the attention to the rest.

            “Um, the bodies. The way they are displayed, its humiliating but almost art like. Can you tell me about the injuries or the autopsies?”

            “He gutted them, different organs from all different victims” Said Anderson “Organ trophies from the looks of it, maybe even selling.”

            “Here take a look at some of these” The Inspector came around to John and handed him a stake of recorded photographs of the bodies.

            John sat down with the pile in his hands, a wave of corrosive nausea bubbling in is stomach. After another breath he began to sift through the photos, clean gore invaded his vision. Ugly and violent gashes, cuts and breaks decorated the bodies. He notices that the edges of many of the gashes are clean.

            “See anything Dr. Watson?”

            “Maybe, have you noticed that the ends of these injuries are very clean, and precise Lestrade? Made with a scalpel.”

            “Anderson did you notice this?” Scolded the Inspector

            “Impossible the skin is entirely mutilated!”

            “Well not all of it apparently” John said softly.

The others gathered around the table for re-inspection of the photos this new information lends itself to the idea that these mutilations hide the true manor of death. John is feeling congested with everyone surrounding him. So he stands a bit away and his body may breath.

            He looked to the left along side the wall with murder as tapestry and at the end stood a man. A tall man in a dark long coat, a bussle of curls dark hair atop his head. A sharp pale profile John’s mind could never eradicate.  There Sherlock stood, straight and hands clasp behind his back.

             John went blind, deaf and dumb at this moment, his body went stiff and all the liquid internal turned to ice. Sherlock turned and looked to him, stealing John’s vision with the same curved smile that rippled his cheeks. He unclasped his right hand behind his back and tapped on the wall with his pointer finger.

Johns eyes began to widen and strain, he forcibly rip them shut and held his breath for a second. He exhaled and unclenched his eyelids.

There is nothing. No one is there.

With shaking legs John slowly walks over to the end of the wall, right where _He_ stood.

            “John you alright mate, see something?”

            “Ah, no. I mean yeah I’m alright.” He turned to the wall and gazed at the picture where Sherlock had tapped. “Th- this one?” he stuttered.

            “It's the Allhallow’s fourth victim found her in a –“

            “No, it’s a copy cat”

            “What!?” Lestrade gently grasped John’s shoulders and turned him towards himself. “ Explain, now”

            John began to shake, the stress mounting itself in his belly and up his chest.

            “Oi, John relax” he whispered easy to the others wouldn’t hear. “Do you need some water or-”

            “No I need to go home, please. Just bring the case files to my flat and I’ll explain later but right now I – I have to go”

            Lestrade nodding in agreement and giving a comforting pat to his back let John go.


End file.
